


The Beast of Bladenboro

by wyntera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Strange Oddities Fanzine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 06:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17441732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: One of my pieces for Strange Oddities: A McHanzo Fanzine!In the first week of January 1954, over a thousand men went into the wilderness outside of Bladenboro, North Carolina, in search of a creature that had been stalking the town. Two of Charlotte's finest reporters are on the case, whether they like it or not.





	The Beast of Bladenboro

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! I wrote this for the SFW portion of the Strange Oddities fanzine! All the information about the Beast and the circumstances from 1954 are taken directly from newspaper clippings and interviews from the citizens of Bladenboro. There was a lot I couldn't fit into the wordcount, so if you're interested in that kind of stuff, I'd check it out. Happy reading! <3

“January 5th, 1954. Bladenboro, North Carolina. For seven days, this sleepy farming community has lived in fear. Something evil lurks in the Green Swamp just outside town, something that kills with abandon in the night. Hogs, goats, cattle, and no fewer than nine dogs have fallen victim, each with peculiar wounds. Some have had their heads crushed, others found with jaws ripped from their skulls. All were found without a drop of blood left in their veins. Now the beast has turned its attention to the people of Bladenboro. Local resident Mrs. C. E. Kinlaw was the first to be attacked—”

“Attacked is a strong word, don’t you think?”

“It rushed her; that counts as an attack.”

“A scared animal runs any direction it wants, that does not make it an attack.”

“Would you let me do this?” Hanzo shrugs so McCree continues. “Witnesses claim the creature resembles a great cat crossed with a wolf or bear, dark in color. Its howls are like that of a frightened woman only louder.”

“Pretty vague. I bet half the animals out here sound like that.”

McCree clicks off his recorder to glare at Hanzo. “I am trying to write a story here.”

“Write later,” Hanzo replies, holding out the flashlight for McCree to take. “I need a free hand for the camera.”

The beam flickers and McCree gives it a shake until the light steadies. “Damn thing,” he mutters. Pointing it toward Hanzo, he watches the other man fiddle with his camera while balancing a rifle. “Watch where you’re aimin’ that. There’s enough trigger-happy fools out here without you misfiring.”

“I can handle it,” Hanzo dismisses. “At least we had enough sense not to drink before coming out here.”

McCree grunts in agreement. Ever since the killings began and the mayor offered a reward, every idiot with a gun has descended on Bladenboro. Damn near a thousand men from across the Carolinas are out in these boondocks. McCree feels sorry for whatever innocent critters they may find. He waits until Hanzo has his camera strap fixed before turning the light and his sawed-off shotgun to the ominous trees before them. “Come on. Let’s keep moving.”

Sloshing through the knee-deep swampwater with muck clinging to their waders, Hanzo follows McCree’s lead. He glances up at the Spanish moss overhead, trying to see the waning moon through the sweetgum and sycamore. “Are you sure we should have left the group?”

McCree shakes his head. “They’ve got more bravado than sense.”

“Then you should have fit right in,” Hanzo replies, smirk evident in his voice.

“Laugh it up, darlin’.” McCree smiles despite the jab; they enjoy taunting each other for their idiosyncrasies. “I’m still surprised a city-boy like you agreed to this assignment.”

Hanzo grumbles something derogatory. He has made no secret of his feelings regarding this trip to the backwoods. “Boss never said anything about tromping through a swamp,” he complains. “‘Just take a few pictures,’ he said. ‘An interview or two. A one-night trip. Nothing too serious, have fun.’ The only way we would be having fun is if we drove straight on to Wilmington for the night.”

“Aww, don’t be like that!” McCree flicks the flashlight back toward Hanzo’s face, the sudden brightness making the other man squint. “You sayin’ you ain’t havin’ fun out here with your favorite reporter?”

“My favorite reporter is going to get pushed in the mud if he keeps blinding me,” Hanzo gripes, giving McCree’s arm a shove and making the other man chuckle. “And keep the light forward; we might miss something.”

McCree pauses in surprise. “Miss something? What would we—wait. Hanzo, don’t tell me you believe all this crap.” At Hanzo’s suspicious silence, McCree starts to laugh. “You can’t be serious?!”

“The gas station owner, Shaw, seemed very convinced!”

“His first name was Tater!” McCree starts walking again, more than happy to tease Hanzo about this. “Sweetheart, come on, this has ‘hoax’ written all over it. There isn’t exactly a boomin’ nightlife around here, if you haven’t noticed. The mayor also just so happens to own the only damn theater in town, the one that was playin’  _ The Big Cat  _ tonight. It smells fishy. Mark my words, this whole thing was cooked up by the town to bring in tourists.”

“How do you explain the deaths? Or how they die?” Hanzo asks. “Surely they didn’t kill all those animals for a hoax.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that. Maybe they’re just takin’ advantage of the weird circumstances. But a vampire cat? No way. Either they’re grossly over-exaggerating the wounds of these animals or there’s some whackjob out here—I’d be more worried about that than a fictional beast.”

Behind him Hanzo makes a pained noise, the splashing of his steps coming faster as he speeds to keep up. “Why did you say that? And stop laughing!”

“I can’t help it! Tough guy Hanzo Shimada shaking in his boots from a little horror story.” McCree’s snickers fade to a sigh when Hanzo doesn’t answer. “Look, I promise you, nothin’s gonna happen. Chances are it’s a lynx, or maybe even some dog with mange that looks funny in the dark. Even if we found somethin’, we’re both armed. There’s no way I’d let anything happen to you—”

“Do you hear that?”

McCree blinks, derailed. “What? What are you—”

“Shh!”

Hanzo grabs McCree by the arm as he catches the sound of rustling wet leaves. They both fall silent, ears straining to find the source. Casting the light about, McCree manages to catch sight of movement in the underbrush. His eyes go impossibly wide and he feels the painful clench of Hanzo’s fingers around his elbow. “Stay behind me,” he whispers, pushing Hanzo back. If there really is a beast, there is no way McCree is letting it get ahold of Hanzo. 

The rustling stops just as suddenly as it began. Hanzo and McCree can feel their hearts beating hard in their chests. Everything falls still. The silence hangs in the air.

McCree swallows. “Must’ve been a—”

Many things happen at once. A brown blur leaps out of the tall grass by the bank and into the water. McCree lets out a blood-curdling shriek. Both the camera and the shotgun go off in a bright flash, the latter deafening in the heavy quiet of the swamp. McCree stumbles backward into Hanzo, who in turn flails and yanks McCree down with him. The pair fall against a cypress with a resounding splash.

“Shit! Shit! What was that!” McCree yells, fumbling the flashlight between them.

“I don’t know! Point the light!” Hanzo cries in a panic. Between the two of them they get the flashlight pointed back at the water.

Swimming away in a lazy path around a broken log is a muskrat, wholly unconcerned with the commotion it wrought. 

The laughter starts with Hanzo, adrenaline bleeding away to hysterics that shake his whole frame under McCree’s weight. McCree is not far behind, and soon the two of them are helpless with it. Their breath hangs in foggy clouds between them as it warms the winter air.

“Goddamn,” McCree gasps, dropping his head to rest against Hanzo’s shoulder. “Scared the shit out of me.”

Hanzo squeezes his arms, and only then does McCree realize that the other man’s arms are wrapped around his torso. “You saved me from a big mouse,” he giggles.

“Hey, a  _ vampire _ mouse. You could’ve died,” McCree counters, setting Hanzo off again. McCree leans back to watch the other man laugh, the flashlight between them lighting up his mirth in sharp relief.

“My hero,” Hanzo says, and before McCree really understands what’s happening, Hanzo leans forward to press their lips together. The contact lasts a few brief seconds before Hanzo remembers himself, jerking backwards, shocked at his own behavior. “I-I apologize, forgive me—mmph!”

The second kiss quiets the confusion brought by the first. A soft moan slips from Hanzo’s throat. Fingers pull McCree in tight by his brown locks, the camera solid and uncomfortable between their chests. Only the steady creep of cold from their surroundings manages to get them to part.

Hanzo’s eyes are dark with intent. “I think I’ve had enough monster hunting for one night,” he murmurs.

“Let’s you and me head back to the motel and get warmed up,” McCree suggests. The slow grin that has been spreading across his face freezes. “Where’s the guns?”

Realization dawns and Hanzo looks down at the murky water around them. “Whoops.”

A search for the weapons proves fruitless. The sounds of their playful bickering echo through the trees as they make their way out of the swamp. Days later, once the two are safe and comfortable in Hanzo’s apartment back in Charlotte, Hanzo has the chance to develop the film from their trip. Most of the pictures are idyllic shots of the town or the woods around Bladenboro. He expects the ones from the swamp to be unusable. What he isn’t expecting is the final photo. There, behind the blur of McCree’s shoulder in motion, gazing out from darkness, are two glowing eyes belonging to a creature far bigger than anything that should be in those woods.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like that and want more, want to check out my art, or just want to chat, come on by my tumblr! You can find me under username wyntera. And if twitter is more your game, come and join me there, just look for @ThreeCatDesigns. You can now also find me as wyntera on Pillowfort!
> 
> And hey. Thanks.


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